<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Trap on Hutta by MrRhapsodist</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055259">A Trap on Hutta</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist'>MrRhapsodist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bars and Pubs, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hutta (Star Wars), Mercenaries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:35:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kit Strider's been in the smuggling game a long time, and he's got a soft spot for Republic personnel in trouble. But when a Jedi Master who's supposed to be in Imperial custody comes to him for help, Kit finds himself crossing paths with a far more intriguing offer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Sith Warrior &amp; Jaesa Willsaam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Trap on Hutta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been playing SWTOR nonstop for a while, and as much as I loved and wrote about my Sith Inquisitor Fidelia Kallig, my Sith Warrior Ava Corvan has a far more fascinating storyline than I ever considered, especially if she's into her new apprentice Jaesa. The idea of her sitting down for a drink with my Republic Smuggler was too inticing to pass up. The rest is history!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jedi Knights were more trouble than they were worth.</p><p>That was the thought that crossed Kit Strider’s mind when he saw the furtive man duck into his booth at the local cantina. A man in a hooded cloak wasn’t usually much to draw Kit’s attention. He counted at least five others, all humanoids, wearing the same ponchos stained green by Hutta’s noxious atmosphere. They were crowded around the bar, laughing and ordering rounds after a long day’s work in the muck.</p><p>But this gentleman who slid over to Kit’s table was no worker. His boots still had that polish, for one thing. And if that weren’t enough, his clipped accent gave him away.</p><p>“I thank you for answering my call,” said Nomen Karr. Small, red-rimmed eyes peered out from under the Jedi Master’s cowl. “When is your ship ready to depart?”</p><p>“That depends on where we’re headed,” Kit replied. He took a long sip from his ale, eyes already sliding toward the other man’s belt. Landing on an empty metal ring. “You armed, or what?”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“I got your credentials, and they check out. Except for <em> that. </em>” Kit gestured to the man’s hip. “No lightsaber. Which makes me wonder how you’re gonna handle yourself if things go south.”</p><p>Karr’s face tightened. “I have the Force as my ally.”</p><p>The smuggler grinned back. “And a fat lot of good that did you, huh?”</p><p>“Listen, Captain—”</p><p>“Hey, lower that voice, why dont’cha?” Kit put on a friendly smile, even as his eyes darted past the fugitive’s shoulder. A gleam of metal in the cantina entrance caught his gaze before resolving into a pair of heavily armed Niktos. All that carbon scoring on their chestplates looked plenty fresh. “This ain’t Coruscant, and this ain’t Tython. You want a ride, you keep things quiet.”</p><p>He almost expected the Jedi to get up and storm off. But Karr remained impassive. His eyes went distant, and the hairs lifted on the back of Kit’s neck. He knew that spooky Jedi nonsense about some all-unifying Force. Sure as hell, he believed in it. No one in this galaxy could deny it.</p><p>But no one ever said he had to <em> like </em> its existence.</p><p>“The danger isn’t immediate,” Karr said. “But we should hurry nonetheless.”</p><p>Kit wiped away a few drops of ale from his mouth. “And like I said, we will. But I’ve got to know which star chart to use, <em> Master.</em>”</p><p>Karr’s face went tight again. His eyes drifted down to the rough-hewn stone that some Hutt’s servants had carved into a crude table.</p><p>“Alderaan,” he whispered. “Her parents are there, and I’ve got to make sure they’re safe...”</p><p>Although he’d stopped listening after the mention of a planet, Kit focused on the overall aura of this stranger. He’d met one or two Jedi along the spacelanes, and long before then, too, when he was a medic in the Republic Army. Nomen Karr fit the bill: stiff upper lip, monotone speech, and a gait that suggested he’d never lose the stick someone had shoved firmly up his backside. But Kit had made it a policy to avoid entangling with Jedi Knights of any flavor. They managed to walk away from nasty battles when other mere mortals never did.</p><p>But Kit had never seen a Jedi look so defeated. He’d have to buy a drink for whoever could make one of the Uptight Robe Brigade pull <em> that </em> off.</p><p>“Alderaan I can do,” Kit replied. “Now, it’s only a question of payment.”</p><p>“You’ll be well compensated—”</p><p>“And since you didn’t wave your hand just now,” Kit continued, cracking a smirk, “I’m guessing you’re too frazzled to even try one of your little mind tricks. So, there’s credits at the end of this trail, Master Jedi?”</p><p>“Keep your voice down,” Karr hissed. His sunken eyes darted over his shoulder. “And... yes.”</p><p>Kit raised his glass. “Then it’s another fine day for free traders like me. Let’s get moving.”</p>
<hr/><p>It was, in fact, <em> not </em> a fine day.</p><p>His first clue should have been those two Niktos. Not because they entered the cantina so soon after Nomen Karr did, but because Kit didn’t see them when they left. Or spot them outdoors.</p><p>He’d shoved Karr into a cargo container and whistled for Bowdaar on the comm.</p><p>Within a few meters of walking into his docking bay, Kit Strider was in the middle of a shootout with those same Nikto mercs. They did the usual banter, tried to offer Kit credits to look away, and he not so politely declined. He took the credits off their smoking bodies and had Bowdaar dump them into a different cargo container. The Hutts wouldn’t miss a couple of two-bit blaster jockeys, he reassured the Wookiee.</p><p>But when Kit went to collect his passenger, Nomen Karr was missing.</p><p>Bowdaar found Kit kicking at an empty cargo container—one that reeked of the Jedi Master’s sweat—and shouting something along the lines of, “Rot in all nine hells! And then <em> five </em> more! You lousy, good-for-nothing mystic madman...!”</p><p>Which was when Bowdaar, ever the perceptive one, picked up on a new scent in the air.</p><p>Specifically, armor oil. <em> Imperial </em> armor oil.</p><p>Kit groaned and sank to his knees. “I swear, Bowdaar, I will never give another Jedi a lift. They got the Force, they can damn well <em> walk </em> home...”</p><p>Bowdaar let out a low growl.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Probably never get another Republic job talkin’ that way...”</p>
<hr/><p>Heading back into the cantina, Kit motioned for Bowdaar to wait for him at the bar. He slipped the Wookiee a few extra credits, for whatever he wanted off the drink menu.</p><p>Meanwhile, his gaze settled on the black hooded figure sitting alone at a booth in the rear.</p><p>The deja vu was off the charts. Same booth where he’d met Karr, and on the same day, no less. But Kit wasn’t wearing a hood. His newfound guest was, with a pair of armored gray boots sticking out beneath the table. Even seated, the figure was tall and broad-shouldered. A few more centimeters wider, and it could have been a damn Houk.</p><p>Except, when Kit approached, he took note of the slight points in the figure’s cowl. The tips of horns, all laid out in a pattern he found familiar. When he caught a glimpse of the smiling face under that hood, he nearly did a double-take. The red skin, yellow eyes, and black tattoos he recognized as Sith, but it wasn’t some Pureblood.</p><p>A Zabrak. And a damn fine-looking one at that.</p><p>“Captain Strider,” said the Sith in a deep, melodic voice. “Please, have a seat. This won’t take up much of your time, I promise.”</p><p>Kit’s hand drifted toward his blaster. “Guessin’ I don’t have much of a choice either way.”</p><p>“There’s always a choice.” The Sith Lord shrugged. “I’ll accept whichever one is yours.”</p><p>Kit smiled, even as the back of his mind whirred at lightspeed, running all the odds of a shootout in this dingy cantina.</p><p>He knew a fellow dejarik player when he saw one.</p><p>Taking a seat, the smuggler didn’t react when a service droid rolled up to their table. Two glasses were set out. Kit watched the droid delicately pour two shots of Corellian whiskey—the real stuff, not the crap sold on other backwater watering holes. He fought the urge to drum his fingers in anticipation, seeing that hard golden liquor fill each glass.</p><p>Soon as the droid wheeled away, the Sith Lord raised her glass in a toast. “To Nomen Karr.”</p><p>Kit watched her down the shot all at once. With lightning-fast reflexes, she flipped the glass over and slid it halfway across the table.</p><p>He grinned. “See? And they say diplomacy’s impossible between our kind.”</p><p>Downing that liquor made him shiver. Not only because the taste was so strong, but because it brought back memories. Flashes of a night he’d spent on Corellia before shipping out with his unit for the front lines, with a girl whose name he never got, but whose time he’d shared at a spaceport hotel was worth remembering on cold, lonely nights.</p><p>Across the table, the Sith Lord smiled. Between the scars and tattoos around her lips, it wasn’t a pretty smile, but it sure tried to be.</p><p>“I imagine,” she said, “you’ve got some questions.”</p><p>Kit shrugged. “Mostly the one.”</p><p>“And what would that be?”</p><p>“Nomen Karr.” Kit fixed her with a long stare. Right into those crazy yellow eyes. “He still breathing?”</p><p>“Certainly.” The Sith Lord leaned back into her side of the booth. Light from the cantina’s glow panels bounced across her face, revealing other scars, more intricate tattoos, and a gaze that—if Kit didn’t know any better—he’d call wistful. “Under my orders, the Jedi Master has been taken into custody. I understand he attempted to book passage on your ship in Docking Bay Forty-One, but that’s no longer your concern, Captain.”</p><p>“Well, excuse me if I’m not convinced.” Kit drummed his fingers along the table’s edge. “I was promised a load of credits for my trouble and was told I’d be doing the Republic a favor. Seems like my job’s not quite done.”</p><p>The Zabrak fixed him with a severe look. “You’ve been misinformed, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Yeah? How you reckon that?”</p><p>“Nomen Karr wasn’t a free man.” Again, the Sith Lord shrugged. Kit found that gesture too casual for someone who looked like she could rip a bantha in half. With her bare hands. “Under the terms of the Treaty of Coruscant, Master Karr interfered with Imperial business and was to be detained as a prisoner. Under those same terms, he will be held in our custody until negotiations for a transfer of <em> our </em> personnel in Republic custody could be arranged.”</p><p>“Ah.” Kit grinned. He took a sip of whiskey, savored the burn, and set the glass down. “So that’d be why you had mercenaries tailing my ship? To ensure the Jedi didn’t sneak away?”</p><p>“Something like that.” The Zabrak tilted her head. “They were contractors. No different from your line of work for the Senate, I’d wager.”</p><p>“Oh. Bit of a gambler, are ya?”</p><p>“Hardly.” The Zabrak’s smile sharpened. “I usually play to <em> win, </em> Captain.”</p><p>“Same here.” Kit pushed aside his half-empty glass. “Now, let’s say I believe this little yarn you’re spinning. Treaties and prisoner exchanges. What’s to stop me from blabbing about you and your buckethead friends snatching a Jedi Master?”</p><p>“The Jedi Council has disavowed his actions.” The Zabrak blinked. “There’s nothing to discuss.”</p><p>“Well, that’s where I beg to differ.” Kit reached one hand casually under the table. Not to go for his blaster, although he briefly considered it, but to pat the shiny credit coin he kept in a pocket. His good luck charm since he made it out of the old neighborhood in Labor Valley.</p><p>As he touched it, the hairs on his neck lifted. Kit forced himself to slouch a little more.</p><p>“The way I see it,” he continued, “you knew where Nomen Karr was headed. But you didn’t know <em> what </em> he was after. Or who.”</p><p>“Or whom,” the Zabrak corrected. Yellow eyes narrowed at Kit. “And care to explain that?”</p><p>Kit grinned. “I mean, you don’t know about the girl’s parents on Alderaan.”</p><p>Nothing made Kit happier than seeing some uptight robed mystic go bug-eyed. He’d have done it to Karr if the old man had gotten onto his ship in time, but he’d settle for seeing the brief flicker of shock on the Zabrak’s face.</p><p>“Alderaan,” she muttered. “Of course, it’d be Alderaan...”</p><p>“Got some history there, I reckon.”</p><p>“Not for myself, Captain, but my new apprentice.” The Zabrak’s eyes softened. Again, a look that felt too eerie on a stone cold Sith’s face. “I’d advise you to be more discreet about Karr’s intentions to flee there.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m not friends with the SIS, if that’s what you’re thinking. Although...” Kit leaned back, rubbing his fingers together, letting his gaze drift ever so casually toward the cantina entrance, where orange sunlight formed a neat corona. “I <em> could </em> be persuaded to forget this whole day...”</p><p>The Zabrak smiled. “And this whole conservation along with it?”</p><p>“See?” Kit gestured across the stone table. “Diplomacy’s not so bad a route, am I right?”</p><p>The Sith Lord didn’t answer. At least, not with words. But within the span of a single breath, she reached below the table and came back up with two shiny metallic bars, each the size of a human finger.</p><p>Aurodium ingots. With the real Muunilinst seal on them. Kit nearly choked on drinking the last of his whiskey.</p><p>“Well, hello, gorgeous...” With a wry smile, he slid his glass over the two ingots. “And consider <em> that </em> memory erased.”</p><p>“A pleasure doing business with you, Captain.” The Sith Lord stood, glancing down as she straightened the fall of her dark robe. With each minute tug, she gave the smuggler enough glimpses of obsidian armor to make him recalculate where on a Sith he’d try shooting next.</p><p>But before she left the table, the Zabrak turned back with a smile.</p><p>“If you’re ever in trouble in Imperial Space,” she said, “ask for Lady Ava Corvan.”</p><p>Kit offered a one-finger salute. “Much obliged, Ava. You give Master Karr my regards.”</p><p>He watched her leave, shoulders squared as her cloak blended in with the cantina’s shadows. The light coming from outside was briefly eclipsed, and then the Sith Lord was gone for good.</p><p>When the hairs finally settled on his neck, Kit scratched at the skin there. He let out a laugh and signaled the nearest service droid for another drink. When the little automaton wheeled away, Kit settled into his seat and reached for his comm.</p><p>“Hey there, partner,” he said into the device. “You read me?”</p><p>“Loud and clear, Captain.” Risha’s smooth voice oozed through the speaker. “I take it we won’t be getting our Jedi back anytime soon.”</p><p>“Yeah, but we’ve got more than the Republic was ever gonna pay us.”</p><p>The laugh was evident in Risha’s voice. “Guess the Force was with you, Captain. Corso’s got the course for Alderaan set, if you’re looking to spend that nice payout.”</p><p>Kit grinned. “Risha, you read my mind. I’ll be there in a sec.”</p><p>He stood and motioned at Bowdaar across the room. Made sure the aurodium was still tucked inside his boot, away from all the beady-eyed pickpockets in town.</p><p>As he made it out of the cantina and into Hutta’s swampy air, he caught one last sight of the Sith. Kit’s hand strayed to the blaster at his side, but he didn’t draw.</p><p>He stood and watched as the Zabrak, Ava Corvan, approached a cute brunette in Jedi robes. The same kind of Padawan uniform he’d spotted at the Green Jedi Enclave back on his homeworld, but far less gaudy in his opinion. At a distance, Kit could tell this wasn’t some usual bit of Sith-inspired mayhem brewing. The Zabrak’s whole face lit up when she offered her hand to the nervous young woman.</p><p>When she took Ava’s hand, the apprentice relaxed. Almost melted in her arm, in fact.</p><p>Kit filed that away for the future. It never hurt to have a Sith—or a Jedi—owe him a favor.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>